Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) (60 page)

Aurata spread her hand at Rufus in a brusque
Shut up!
gesture.

“Ignore him,” she said lightly. “If I wounded you, Albin, I’m truly sorry. But we would have destroyed each other. You cursed me never to rest? Well, your curse held indeed. It was partly because I couldn’t find peace that I worked so hard to raise Qesoth.”

“You should know that curses come back to bite,” said Rufus.

“Of course, this is not a matter for hearts,” Albin said, pointedly shifting to turn his back on Rufus. Mist edged around so that he could watch both their faces. “It’s about balance. Brawth the shadow rose, so Qesoth rose in her turn. I should have known. I didn’t expect her to appear in your guise, Maia, but I suppose there is a pleasing symmetry in this.”

“And what now?” Aurata said. “You expressed your love for me in a curse! We’ve fought a battle that neither can win, because Brawth is Qesoth’s shadow-self. Without her, he can’t exist. So tell me, what now?”

Albin’s shoulders rose in a brief, hollow laugh. “It ends here,” he said. “Often I told myself that nothing in all the realms could lift winter from me but a glimpse of my Maia’s face. A kiss. But Maia was an illusion, and all passion long frozen.”

“I was no illusion,” she said fiercely. “Everyone thinks that you and I are equally selfish and heartless. But I’ve always known that my own plan might destroy me, and that I should remember that I’m acting not for myself, but for those who come after.” She waved a hand in the direction of Sam and Lucas. “Not least, for our own descendants.”

Albin said nothing. Perhaps he’d lost the will to argue.

“Let it end, then,” she said softly. “For them.”

Aurata moved towards Albin, tilting her face towards his. Their lips met. In the collision of fire and ice, Mist saw all their ambitions evaporate. The power that trailed from their shoulders like cloaks, auroras that filled the universe—all vanished. He saw clearly that their powers had reached a boundary, a membrane like oil and water swirling against each other, unable to mix.

The kiss lasted half a minute, a span of time that seemed endless. At last Aurata stepped back. Her fire had gone. She was fully in her human shape, red hair falling neatly around a strikingly calm face. Albin’s expression was bitter, with a distinct trace of sadness.

Mist understood. This was inevitable, yet still a shock. With the kiss, they had each drained the other’s strength. Effectively, they had neutralized each other. In doing so, they’d become ordinary, or as ordinary as Aetherials ever could be: a condition that neither of them could tolerate.

Perhaps Albin hadn’t realized what he was giving up, but Aurata—always smarter than him—had known. And she’d made a decision to destroy Albin’s power by sacrificing her own.

A flash of sanity had prevailed, after all, and allowed her to spare her grandsons.

Mist saw all this in detail, but caught only a glimpse of Rufus snatching a crossbow from the nearest warrior and aiming it at the back of Albin’s neck. The bolt shot home. The Sibeylan fell.

Feral, Rufus sprang and landed on Albin’s back. He seized the long white hair in his left hand, jerked back the head, and with his right hand—his forefinger a long claw like a scimitar—he slashed deep through Albin’s throat.

The color of his blood was a shock. Mist had expected white ichor, not a purplish-red flow, its hue startling against the pale rock as it pooled and spread. Rufus severed the neck almost to the spine, and let the snowy figure collapse in a heap of feathers at Aurata’s feet.

*   *   *

The moment Albin fell, the fog dispersed.

The tower remained, its needle-spike pointing at the sky. All around was black-ink darkness—that was a shock, because Mist had seen blue sky above the ocean of vapor. The Otherworld, capricious, could change in seconds.

He made his way upwards to Stevie. Every bone ached as he climbed. Since the Spiral was never completely dark, his eyes adjusted instantly from the cotton-wool fog to clear night. There were strangely few stars, but enough for Aetherial eyes.

On the tower courtyard, the statues were beginning to move. Color was seeping into their empty shells, ice cracking and shattering on the ground. Albin’s victims were everywhere. A dusting of bluish light lit scores of figures milling on a plateau that resembled a moonscape, an expanse of jumbled flat plates glistening like feldspar.

On this eerie plateau, Albin’s tower and island lay marooned, like a spar on a ship that has run aground.

To one side loomed distant mountains; to the other, a shadowy hint of hills.
This must be the border of Asru
, Mist thought. From that direction, dozens more warriors were arriving to reinforce Vaidre Daima’s troops. The Spiral landscape had a tendency to distortion so he couldn’t be sure of anything he was seeing. Realms frayed into each other like multiple reflections, even appearing to be in several places at once as if seen through water.

At the foot of Albin’s island, Vaidre Daima had regained command and was snapping out orders. His voice carried clearly. “Mistangamesh and all of you near the tower, I ask that you come with me. Rufus and Aurata Ephenaestus, I place you in the custody of the Spiral Court. Surrender yourselves.”

Mist ignored him. He felt a duty towards his brother and sister, but his priority was Stevie.

Reaching her, he saw frost evaporating from her hair and skin; saw her eyes come to life. She bent to pick up the three pebbles. They dissolved in her palm and, although he saw nothing, he felt the
fylgias
break free like rushes of spring air. Around her, three glacial specters were returning to life. As each one moved, crusts of ice fell away. Snow sifted from their clothes like powdered sugar. Features emerged from the crystalline coating: Lucas’s dark hair and sharp, intelligent features; Sam’s bright blue-green eyes, wildly staring around, ready in a heartbeat to fight the nearest enemy; Rosie’s face, a creamy oval with wide grey eyes, deep pink lips parted in shock, her hair a red-brown tangle as if she’d fallen through a hedge.

“What the hell?” she gasped. “What the
fuck
just happened?”

Stevie turned, and threw her arms around Rosie.

Mist stood back, not wishing to interrupt the fever of embraces, exclamations and tears among the four of them. While he waited, he let any remnant of Aetherial features drop away, let his form appear human again. He allowed himself a smile.

Then Stevie looked up and saw him.

Gently disentangling herself, she came to him, focusing all the obvious remarks into her eyes so she needn’t say them aloud.
We’re alive, thank the gods. Is it over?
His arms enfolded her. They embraced in wordless relief that was echoed in the chaos all around them. Bewildered Melusians mingled with Tyrynaians and Sibyelans.

After awhile, Sam said, “Albin?”

“Dead,” said Mist. “I’m sorry.”

The hawk-like corpse lay in clear sight in a livid lake of blood.

“What the hell are you sorry for?”

“Well … he was your grandfather.”

Sam and Lucas looked at each other. “No apology needed,” Sam said. “I’d have done it myself, if we hadn’t been … paralyzed, or whatever. Believe me, he’s had it coming for a long, long time.”

“Can you remember anything?” Stevie asked anxiously.

All three shook their heads. “Fragments,” Rosie answered. “Nothingness. As if time had stopped. I knew something was really wrong, but I couldn’t work out what. Horrible. But you came back for us! What happened?”

“Have you got all day?” Stevie found a smile.

Lucas said, “Did we dream it, or was Albin doing battle with a red-haired fire goddess? And calling her … Maia? Who is she?”

“Oh.” Mist paused. “That’s my sister, Aurata. Also known as Maia, yes.”

“As in Maia, our
grandmother
?” Lucas said quietly. “This is surreal. What should we do?”

Sam said, “This is probably not the best moment to introduce ourselves.”

Mist shook his head. “I don’t know what will happen, but we may have a chance to see her in Tyrynaia. Vaidre Daima’s taking her prisoner. Rufus too.”

“They seem to having a difference of opinion about that,” said Sam.

Where the island shore met the plateau, Aurata and Rufus were side by side, facing Vaidre Daima across Albin’s corpse. There was a negotiation taking place, Vaidre politely but firmly repeating his request for her surrender, Aurata smiling as if humoring a child. Behind him, the Spiral Court troops stayed in their ranks. Mist suspected they were in awe of her, even afraid. Every step the leader took towards her, Aurata took a step back.

“My lady, you must come with us,” he repeated.

Aurata said simply, “Not in a million years. You have no power over me.”

“You won’t be harmed. We need to question everyone.”

“Bad luck, because I answer to no one.”

Rufus put in, “For pity’s sake, Aurata, we may as well go with them or we’ll be here for eternity.”

Rosie said, “And so will we. Can we sneak away before they notice? I really want to leave, I can’t stand being in this place another moment.”

Stevie looked at Mist, who nodded. “Yes, she’s right. Let’s just go. We’ll have to find our way around to the far side of the island and hope none of the warriors are there yet. Are you all okay to walk?”

“A bit stiff, and not in a good way,” said Sam. “But we’ll manage.”

Around the base of the spire they went and began to cross the quartz plate of the island’s far shore. It was a few hundred yards—farther than Mist had expected—and rising slightly so they couldn’t see what lay beyond.

Reaching the rim, they stopped in astonishment.

Nothing. A great midnight curve of space hung above, in front and below. The oval of the plate’s rim protruded a good hundred feet over this void.

Sam said, “Holy crap, look where we are. Did Albin know he’d stranded himself halfway over the Abyss?”

“I don’t think he did anything by accident,” said Lucas.

Stevie gripped Mist’s arm. She gasped, tried to speak, gasped again. “To think I was worried about tripping up in the fog!”

Edging as far forward as they dared, they looked down.

The heart of the Spiral was also, somehow, its endless boundary: an ink-black sweep of infinity. Far below was a vast roiling galaxy, a flat spiral trailing long, glittering arms. It was breathtaking with clouds of crimson and violet gas, dense with stars that sparkled blue and white and yellow. At the center was lightless disk, like a bottomless well, a black hole.

The Eye of the Cauldron.

Mist was horribly aware of standing on a thin crust of rock that might break like sugar beneath them. Yet he couldn’t tear his gaze from the wondrous galaxy. The black eye was Estel’s domain, her cauldron of creation, beginning and end.

To fall into the Abyss is true death, true annihilation, even for Aetherials …

“This isn’t how I remember it,” said Rosie, her voice shaky.

“You’ve seen this before?” said Stevie.

“It was more a true chasm, like in the Norse myths, with fire rolling down one wall and ice vapor down the other … and there was a tree, a gigantic world-tree. You remember, don’t you, Luc? We looked down from the branches. I don’t remember seeing a huge eye of stars. Why is it different?”

“It’s the Abyss,” said Sam, “Ergo, it’s huge. Of course it won’t be the same everywhere.”

“And it changes,” said Mist.

Lucas nodded, looking pale. “That’s the Spiral for you. Different according to who’s looking into it, and why.” He began to back away. “I can’t stay here. The Abyss and me … not very comfortable with each other … Sorry, I don’t feel great and I think we should just go and find a different way back.”

Rosie caught his arm, pulling him farther from the precipice. “It’s okay, Luc. We all feel like crap. We’re not in the best state for admiring the wonders of the Otherworld, so…”

“I suggest we work our way back and just go to Tyrynaia with Vaidre Daima,” said Sam. “
We’ve
done nothing wrong—have we?”

“Of course not,” said Mist. “I think you’re right. You do all look terrible.”

“Thanks.” Rosie grimaced at him.

“Didn’t mean—oh, you know what I meant. So we’ll rest until they’ve finished arguing with Aurata and then go along quietly. Agreed?”

Sam and Rosie began to make their way off the perilous rim, supporting Lucas between them. Mist and Stevie hesitated for a few seconds. It was so hard to stop looking into the awesome majesty of the Cauldron.

There was a shout. Vaidre Daima’s voice, again.

“Stop!” Then to his warriors, “What are you waiting for? Capture her! Lady Aurata, give yourself up. You’ve nowhere to run.”

Rufus and Aurata appeared, heading towards the lip of the island. They were barely thirty feet away; Mist ran towards them, calling out a warning. Stevie followed. He told her to go back with Luc and the others, but she retorted crisply, “I’m staying with you.”

On the very edge, Rufus and Aurata slid to an abrupt halt. They looked tiny against the vast emptiness beyond.

Vaidre Daima and his guards halted yards away, as if they dared not set foot on the rock plate that hung over the void. Sensible, no doubt, but Aurata had now placed herself in a siege position that might go on indefinitely.

“Aurata, what the hell are you doing?” Mist stopped a few feet from her. She looked unnaturally serene. He had no idea what was going on in her head.

She didn’t answer. Rufus shrugged. He looked haggard. “We’re not giving ourselves up to the Spiral Court. That’s the end of the matter. No surrender.”

“Rufe, you’re not the one in trouble, for a change.”

“Makes no difference,” said Rufus. “Where Aurata goes, I go.”

“Why?”

“She’s the one person who loved me when everyone else hated me.”

“She locked you up, not so long ago!”

“It doesn’t matter. Perhaps if we hadn’t lost Aurata when Azantios fell, the story could have been different. We might have all stayed sane. This is the only true family we have: each other. Maybe you can’t stand me, Mist—fair enough, but I still want to be with Aurata.”